


Salvation

by AngelOtaku121



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mark of Cain, Oops, also accidental destiel, but not really, or at least how i think it should end, s09 ending, so here have some
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 11:24:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1548821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelOtaku121/pseuds/AngelOtaku121
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abaddon is dead. Crowley is dead. The only thing left is to kill Metatron, and that is what Dean intends to do. However, the Mark of Cain is powerful and all controlling. Blood lust and rage seethe through Dean's veins, until he is no longer in control. And then, is it too late?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salvation

**Author's Note:**

> This is how I envision Season 9 ending. Additional notes at the end of the story.

Dean stood above Metatron, breathing heavily. The Mark of Cain glowed sickeningly as he clutched the First Blade tightly in his fist. Abaddon was dead. Crowley was dead. Sam was off taking care of Gadreel. All that was left was to kill Metatron, the angel who had betrayed their trust, stolen Castiel’s grace, and started this whole mess in the first place.

 Distantly, Dean could hear Castiel pleading with him to step away from the sniveling body at his feet. To _spare_ him. Dean scoffed. Metatron deserved to die, deserved to vanish into the abyss and never be hear from again. Because that’s what the First Blade did; it made it so there was no coming back. The world needed to be rid of Metatron, and Dean had the power to do it.

 He raised the Blade, the light of the setting sun glinting off his rage-warped features. He was angry, bloodthirsty. A hideous sneer was slashed across his face. This was it. This was the end. Nothing would get in his way.

 “ _Dean, stop!_ ” Castiel had moved in front of Metatron, blocking Dean’s intended attack. Wrath shone from his eyes as he took in the angel before him: dirty, wounded, and imploring.

 “I’m going to finish this once and for all,” Dean hissed, glaring at Castiel.

 “Don’t you know what this will do to you?! Dean, killing an angel with that blade--taking the life of a pure entity with a weapon of filth—it’s irreversible, Dean! There’s no going back!” Castiel’s eyes were wild, and the desperation in his voice was more than audible. Dean could hear it, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was removing Metatron from the earth.

 “A _demon_ , Dean! You’ll become a goddamn _demon_! You need to stop this madness! Dean—”

 “Enough!” Dean shouted, cutting off Castiel. The angel regarded him with something akin to pity, but there was anger as well. But how could Castiel possibly be upset when all Dean intended to do was kill another monster? Dean let out a twisted laugh. “You can’t stop me, Castiel. Move.”

 “Are you even _listening_?! Do you really want to become a _monster_?! Dean, you’ve done _enough_!” Castiel’s anger was steadily eclipsing the sadness as his voice rose in volume.

 “Metatron deserves to die!” Dean snarled, loathing coloring his tone.

 “But you _don’t_! Don’t you even _care_ , Dean?!”

 Dean didn’t care. He didn’t care if he died, as long as Metatron suffered. He would eliminate anything in his path, and he would do it gladly. The power of the Mark was coursing through his veins, making him invincible. He needed to kill Metatron, and he would damn well enjoy it.

 Castiel’s voice had softened. He was gripping Dean’s shoulders, his eyes wide and vulnerable. He was _pleading_.

 “Metatron has already corrupted so much, Dean. Please don’t let him destroy you too. You once said you needed me. Well the converse is true as well. I need _you_ , and that means you have to stop.”

 Dean looked away from Castiel. “Step aside.”

 Dean heard the angel draw in a sharp breath. “ _Dean_. Don’t you understand? I will have to _hunt_ you. I know that you want revenge, but if you slay an angel with that blade…You’ll lose yourself. _I’ll_ lose you.”

 Dean’s gaze returned to Castiel, savage bloodlust in his eyes. “I won’t ask again. Move.”

 Castiel’s hands dropped off of Dean’s shoulders. His expression was guarded, letting no emotion through. His voice was steel when he spoke. “I won’t let you do this Dean.”

 “ _Move, Castiel._ ”

 The angel tilted his head. “No.”

 Scarlet anger colored Dean’s vision. How _dare_ Castiel stand in his way? He had the divine duty to rid the earth of evil. And there was no doubt in his mind that Metatron was evil. Dean yearned to sink the Blade into Metatron’s flesh. He ached to hear the screams and feel the blood spilling across his hands.  

 A pulsing pain shot up his arm from the Mark. Dean’s vision clouded and he lunched forward with a feral yell, feeling the Blade sink up to the hilt in flesh. Metatron would die here and now. The Blade would burn out his essence and eradicate him.

 Satisfaction coursed through Dean’s veins as he felt the warm blood washing over his palm where he gripped the Blade. However, the satisfaction left him abruptly as Castiel’s voice reached his ears.

 “ _Dean_ …” It was weak, weaker than Dean had ever heard it. A shuddering breath followed.

 It hit Dean all at once. His mind cleared, the savage, bloodthirsty hatred draining out of him. The Mark faded to a dull ache. Dean shut his eyes, willing himself to be wrong. _This isn’t happening. I’m dreaming. It’s not real…It can’t be…_

 Dean felt a hand on his own where it still gripped the Blade. The slick blood coating his hands was warm, but he could feel the clammy chill of the other’s palm. “Dean…look at me. Please.”

 Dean opened his eyes to find himself staring into Castiel’s blue ones. Castiel’s face had taken on a sallow pallor, and his eyes seemed dull. Dean could still feel the weight of the hand on his, and he made the move to look down at what could no doubt be his own handiwork.

 However, before he caught more than a flash of crimson, one of Castiel’s hands reached and gently tilted Dean’s chin up so that their eyes met once more. Dean could vaguely feel his own body shaking, but all he felt was numbness. “Cas…”

 Castiel smiled sadly. “It’s okay, Dean.” He drew a thumb across Dean’s cheek in attempt to wipe away tears, but left a scarlet streak behind. “It’s okay.”

 “No…” Dean’s voice cracked. “Cas, no…”

 Castiel dropped his hand from Dean’s face to rest it on his shoulder where Dean once bore the mark of their bond. He let out a weak chuckle. “Dean Winchester is saved.”

 “Cas, what—”

 “I’ve been running off stolen grace, Dean. I’m hardly an angel, and I’m anything but pure. This won’t destroy you, just awaken you from the Mark’s grip.”

 Dean shook his head, refusing to believe what his senses were telling him. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. Cas, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. I’m sorry; I’m so sorry, Cas…”

 Castiel shuddered, his knees dropping out from under him. Dean caught him and lowered him to the ground, still clutching the blade that was protruding from the angel’s chest. Castiel drew in a gasping breath.

 “Don’t apologize, Dean. I don’t blame you.”

 “Why? This is _my_ fault. If you had never met me, you’d be happy up in Heaven somewhere and instead you’re—” Dean cut himself off. He couldn’t bring himself to say the word ‘dying.’ It was as though if he acknowledged it, it would make it real.

 “Dean, I didn’t know what happiness was until I met you. All those millennia existing, and it wasn’t until I was with you that I ever felt alive.” Pain creased Castiel’s features as he tried to smile at Dean. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

 “Cas…”

 “Be strong, Dean.”

 Castiel drew a final, shuddering breath. His chest stilled and his hand fell away from Dean to rest coldly on the ground beside him. A white light enveloped his body, bright enough to force Dean to look away. When it faded, all that remained was the charred hilt of the First Blade, still clutched tightly in his fist.

 Metatron was nowhere in sight, but with his injuries, he wouldn’t have made it far. Dean would hunt that sonofabitch down. There would be nowhere on earth or in Heaven that Metatron could hide. Dean would find him.

 Just as quickly as Dean’s rage began, it died away, leaving a hollow emptiness in its wake. Castiel was gone. He was gone, and Dean had never told him anything important. Dean needed him. He loved him. And Castiel would never know.

 There was no record of what would happen to an angel if killed by the Blade. Dean hoped that Castiel would get some sort of reprieve. Perhaps rebirth, or even just a place in Heaven. Castiel deserved at least that much.

 Dean opened his fist, letting the hilt of the Blade roll out of it and onto the bloodstained ground. He looked at his scarlet hands, matching the hues of the dying sunset.

 Desolate and alone, Dean wept.  

**Author's Note:**

> So, as stated, this is how I want s09 to end. Here's the thing: I love Castiel. He's my favorite. But I feel like this course of events would add a new dynamic to the plot to perk it up. And it would be a great cliffhanger for going into s10. That said, I think even if this happens, the writers will find a way to bring Cas back. I dunno, this was mostly the product of a tired mine and a few episodes of SPN. Hope you enjoyed~


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